


Melting Point

by mystiri1



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ice lefts its mark behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melting Point

It wasn't easy staying warm when Steve was young, but that was nothing unusual. There were plenty of people in his neighborhood who worked hard but still had trouble affording wood for more than just cooking, or shoes without holes, or warm, sturdy clothing. His mother did her best, so Steve didn't complain. He'd heap up the blankets at night, cut new soles out of old cardboard, and don an extra layer if necessary.

He didn't mind the cold for the most part; it just meant taking extra care not to get ill, because his mother had enough to deal with already. Of course, that was easier said than done for a skinny, asthmatic boy prone to chest infections and the like, and at its worst, the cold air felt like knives in his lungs. But for Steve, it wasn't as hard as seeing the worry on his mother's face, or the baseless, unspoken guilt she sometimes wore as if she was not doing enough to care for him.

Once his mother was gone, he rarely gave the cold much thought at all.

* * *

After the serum, Steve didn't really feel the cold. He'd heard some of the scientists discussing the fact that his body temperature was higher than average, but that didn't mean much to him. They didn't talk to him about his condition, anyway - only to each other, as if he wasn't there. He learned most of what he knew about himself post-serum that way: clinical discussions of physiology and metabolic rates, of potential side-effects and the likelihood of being able to replicate any of it without Dr Erskine's notes.

Steve listened because he had no doubt it was relevant, but the information he was interested in no scientist seemed to know: when he would get out of the lab and onto the battlefield.

He didn't really think about it until he was out in the field, as the USO girls never seemed to notice the cold either - or so he thought, given that they never seemed to notice how much or how little clothing they were wearing backstage. But camped out in the middle of nowhere, he watched one of the civilians the Commandos were currently escorting shiver, huddled close to the fire, and after a moment's thought he shrugged out of his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders.

That night, he gave up his bedroll, too. He didn't need much sleep, anyway.

* * *

  
It was impossible to miss the cold when the plane crashed. The water crept up around him, steady and insidious in its creeping chill, and for the first time in years, Steve remembered what it was like to _feel_ cold, to desperately wish for a warmth that was out of reach. But it would not last long, and as the waters closed over his head, he still felt the fierce satisfaction of knowing that because of him, The Red Skull had not won, after all. 

* * *

  
When he awoke, so many decades later, he always felt cold. Even without the psychologists SHIELD kept making him talk to, Steve knew it was mostly in his head. For the most part, it seemed a constant reminder of what he'd lost, a tangible sensation to accompany his grief.

It didn't stop him keeping the temperature in his own quarters quite warm, or storing heavy blankets in his room for nights when he needed the extra heat. Or craving the flushed, sweaty feel of a good workout when his head felt too full of everything to cope any more.

Over time, he stopped noticing it again. Everyone he knew before was dead and gone, and the world had changed beyond recognition, but he had a job to do, and a new team. Barring a few bad nights, the cold gradually faded.

Then came a mission to the Arctic to hunt down some top-secret villains lair.

Steve knew that the armor he wore was designed especially for cold weather ops, and that he shouldn't feel much beyond the cold wind on his cheeks where the cowl didn't cover them. But it felt like that chill went bone deep, and he found himself distracted even as they battled it out with armed minions and security measures.

How far from here was it that he had been discovered? What would happen if he froze now - would he lose everyone all over again? Would he ever be found?

He thought he'd covered it well, until he sat awaiting Tony's arrival at the debriefing, unable to shake the feeling of being frozen once more. Tony waltzed in, late as usual, a takeout cup of coffee in each hand.

Steve spared a moment to sigh in fond exasperation, because only Tony would stop for 'real' coffee - still in the Iron Man suit - before attending debrief, while the rest of them made do with the battered carafe on the sideboard, if that. He wasn't surprised by the two cups, as it wouldn't be the first time Tony had double-fisted his caffeine, until Tony placed one cup down in front of him.

"Drink up," he said before casually taking his own seat, as if it were something he did every day.

Steve lifted the cup, feeling the warmth of it against his palm, and took a sip.

Not coffee, but hot chocolate, thick and rich and sweet with marshmallows. The heat of it slid down his throat to pool in his stomach, and Steve could feel it slowly spreading from there.

He took another mouthful, leaned back in his chair and relaxed as the ice began to melt.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Avengers/Captain America, Steve Rogers, Tracks of Ice
> 
> For peaceful_sands


End file.
